Monday, September 19, 2011

The guilty occupation of a life - or, Wuthering Expectations is four years old

An abuse of imagination lies “in turning what was intended for the mere refreshment of the heart into its daily food, and changing the innocent pastimes of an hour into the guilty occupation of a life.” So argues John Ruskin in the third volume of Modern Painters (1856), Chapter IV, paragraph 6.

Tomorrow I will have been writing Wuthering Expectations for four years! Quite something, ain’t it?

Two years ago I assembled a guide for readers chancing upon Wuthering Expectations for the first time. It is time for an update. This is what I do, part two.

Although I have more than one trick, Wuthering Expectations is generally highly aestheticized. I read Little House on the Prairie not as a naïve autobiography or as nostalgic kitsch, but as a work of literary art, which is what it is.

I do not write so many book reviews as such, nor do I think of myself as an advocate for particular books or authors. An exception was the great John Galt; I spent two weeks working through his books. Try The Provost and The Entail. The Galt reading somehow led to the first reading challenge in book blog history that was actually challenging, the Scottish Literature Challenge. No one will bother to sort through this, but it’s all right here.

Some of these links go to what I think are the best posts of the last two years; others go to writing and subjects that are more representative. By “best,” I mean the same thing I always do – best written. Wuthering Expectations is writing.

Congrats on the long life of your excellent blog, Amateur Reader! Curiously enough, I just today linked for the second or third time this year to one of my favorite recent posts by you--and I see that post of yours doesn't even show up in this post's highlights. I guess I have a knack for being out of step, even among "colleagues" whose work I enjoy!

Like Richard's, my "most thought about" post of yours from the past few years (Verlaine's frolicking clowns) doesn't appear here. You just provide so much food for thought, it can't all fit into one post. Congratulations on four years of blogging!

I'm quite late to the party, having just discovered your blog very recently, but it looks like catching up will be immensely enjoyable and rewarding (and for what it's worth, you had me at "mummified cat," as I have a friend who has an actual mummified cat hanging in her living room). I already have 35 books out of the library at the moment, but it looks like I need to head over there now to pick up something Senegalese and something by John Galt, for starters - Scott

I strongly considered those posts - the Argentinean Literature of Doom, too. My week with Oliphant's The Perpetual Curate is solid - another book that, once I got writing on it, I flatter myself that I really "got." But all of that linking wore me out.

I also considered asking people for favorite posts, but the egomania of that idea seemed all too plain, although on birthdays one should forgive a little self-congratulation.

As for everyone else's congratulations, thanks so much! Onward and upward!

PS - She has an actual mummified cat in her living room! That's prime turnip fertilizer going to waste.

mel - a good question with no good answer. Galt's short stories, in my experience, are weak compared to the remarkable cluster of novels he started writing in the 1820s. An exception might be "The Howdie: An Autobiography," a curious story of a midewife, but I will warn you that it is a no-kidding-around Scotch dialogue story.

That first name is still pretty anonymous, I figure, and might not even be my real name, except that some people who stop by here know me and know that it is. I could reveal my entire name and still be pretty well hidden on the internet. A lesser Tom Jones, for example, would be hard to track down.

mel - look at this crazy Galt archive! Neat. "The Howdie" I was thinking of is the 27 page story within the collection also titled The Howdie. Glacing at the story, I can say with confidence that I do not remember it well. The Provost, The Entail, even the bizarre and amazing Ringan Gilhaize, now those I remember.

Ah, everyone is so nice. I do not really feel so guilty, although a Ruskinian self-examination of the assumptions of one's life is always in order. Regardless, I keep trying here - my way of kicking against the pricks, although that sounds so violent. Cultivating my garden, maybe. Trying to write interesting sentences.

Way behind on the reading this week, so I'm late to the party to congratulate you on four years! Your Little House series is one of my favorites, simply for the way it looked at some of my favorite books from growing up in a completely different manner than I ever would. (Then again, you look at everything differently than I do...which is why I keep reading.) Looking forward to many more interesting posts.

Just stumbled upon this blog recently and I love it! I'm a Comparative Literature major (19th century literature), and your blog is exactly the right thing for me - I love the in-depth thoughts you give about the works you read, as well as their links to other books of the period, literary movements, and whatnot! (although I strongly disagree with your judgment on Dumas, and posted a relevant comment on one of your Count of Monte Cristo posts).

Also, is there any chance you could add a link to my blog on your list of blog links? I've recently started a book/literary blog where I hope to post thoughtful analyses of the things I read (many of them classics), like the ones you do.

Hmm, a cold-hearted reader. That's interesting. I think, in a way, I am as well, in that I can often be very judgmental about characters' choices and motivations; still, that doesn't prevent me (like most women, it appears) from falling in love with literary characters.

As for Comparative Literature, comparing all of the literatures does sound quite nice, but as I've realized, I will be alive for a limited time and thus actually have to make choices I'm focusing on 19th century French literature (inspired by my love of Dumas, of course). I also love Victorian literature, especially Oscar Wilde and the like, and am actually hoping to write my BA thesis on the links between 19th century French literature and its influences on Victorian literature.

Contact Me

WutheringExpectations@gmail.com

I too could now say to myself: Be no longer a Chaos, but a World, or even Worldkin. Produce! Produce! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a Product, produce it in God's name! 'Tis the utmost thou hast in thee; out with it then. Up, up! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy whole might. Work while it is called To-day, for the Night cometh wherein no man can work.